Leave Her Alone
by Lady Dudley
Summary: Sherlock tolerates his brother's interference in his life up to a point and that point is reached when a certain pathologist enters his life. *Final chapter added*
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I was thinking that Mycroft probably did something similar with Molly as he did with John in ASiP. I decided to do a little something based around that and The Beatles song just fit so well :P Hope you enjoy it! :)**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_**Leave Her Alone**_

…  
_You better leave my kitten all alone,  
You better leave my kitten all alone.  
Well, I told you, big, fat bulldog,  
You better leave her alone._

_You better leave my kitten all alone,_  
_You better leave my kitten all alone._  
_This dog is gonna get you_  
_If you don't leave her alone._  
- 'Leave My Kitten Alone,' The Beatles  
…

Sherlock let out a heavy sigh, "I thought we had discussed this, Molly," he said irritably without looking up from the microscope, "I don't like it when people hover."

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Molly open her mouth to say something, before closing it again and shaking her head slightly. "I'm sorry," she said and moved away.

Sherlock glared down the microscope; for some reason it bothered him that she would attempt to keep something from him, which just annoyed him more. "What's the matter?" he asked, looking up with another heavy sigh.

"It's nothing," Molly replied, pretending to be engrossed in her own work.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he watched her, "Did he offer you money?" he asked finally.

Molly looked up at him in shock, "What?"

"The man who abducted you, did he offer you money to spy on me?" he elaborated.

"Yes."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed further, "Did you take it?"

Molly looked aghast, "No!"

Sherlock shrugged a shoulder, a little confused by her reaction but pleased that she had rejected the money nonetheless. "You should have taken it," he said easily, turning back to the microscope, "I'm sure you could use the money."

"Who was he?" Molly asked after a moment.

"My enemy, I'm sure he made that clear," Sherlock replied dismissively, writing down some results. He glanced at her, "It won't happen again."

"How can you be so sure?" Molly asked doubtfully.

Sherlock resisted the urge to roll his eyes and flashed her a charming smile instead, "There's nothing to worry about, Molly, he won't hurt you," he assured her.

Molly didn't look convinced, but his assurances appeared to have calmed at least some of her worries and they continued to work in companionable silence.

Much later that evening, Sherlock burst into a well-appointed, yet Spartan office, "Stay away from her," he ordered the man seated behind the desk.

Mycroft Holmes raised an eyebrow looking amused, "Clearly I underestimated Dr. Hooper's importance," he commented drily after a moment.

Sherlock scoffed, "This isn't about Molly," he insisted, Mycroft raised both eyebrows at his use of the pathologist's first name, "this is about you interfering with my work. Molly is very distracting when she's upset and _you_ upset her," he added accusingly.

Mycroft shrugged a shoulder, "If she bothers you, find another hospital."

Sherlock hesitated, "St. Bart's has the best facilities and Molly makes a competent assistant," he said stiffly.

"Caring is not an advantage," Mycroft reminded him.

"I don't _care_," Sherlock retorted, spitting out the last word as though it tasted bad, "her assistance is useful for my cases, that's all." He gave Mycroft a hard look, "_Your_ interference, on the other hand, is not. Leave her alone," he added, a note of warning creeping into his tone.

Mycroft regarded him for a long moment, "I'll still be keeping tabs on her," he said finally.

"Fine," Sherlock said curtly, "but no more whisking her off in one of your black cars," he stipulated before stalking out of the room as abruptly as he had entered it.

Mycroft watched him go with a thoughtful expression on his face, he hadn't found anything particularly remarkable about the pathologist but clearly his brother had. He would definitely have to keep an eye on her.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Some of you requested that I continue with this and I was inspired so...here you go :) ********A HUGE thank you to beautywithin22 who very kindly read over the new chapters for me. **I will post the others over the next couple of days. This one is set 'pre-canon' as well, hope you enjoy! 

Mycroft Holmes had known about his brother's drug habit for almost as long as it had existed, but he'd also known that any attempt to cure him of it would only be met with stubborn resistance. So instead Mycroft had watched (and worried) from a distance, waiting for the inevitable.

When the inevitable occurred Mycroft proved how truly concerned he was for his brother by barely reading beyond the first few lines of the report before heading to the hospital. Thus he was taken completely by surprise when he entered his brother's private room to find Molly Hooper sitting by his bedside.

Molly was just as surprised to see him, but Mycroft was better at concealing his emotions than the young pathologist; a slight pause as he entered the room was the only indication that he'd been caught off guard.

"Dr. Hooper," he greeted her politely, amused to read in her tense posture that she was preparing to defend herself – and Sherlock – should the need arise. "I confess I wasn't completely honest with you at our last encounter," he continued, ignoring Sherlock's derisive snort. "Despite his protests to the contrary, I am not Sherlock's enemy," he paused, "I'm his brother."

Molly stared at him, before glancing at Sherlock for confirmation; Sherlock nodded, shooting a glare in his brother's direction. Her brow furrowed slightly and she looked back at Mycroft warily.

He gave her a small, slightly patronizing smile, "Do you mind giving us a moment?"

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as she glanced at Sherlock again, it was clear that she was intimidated by him but she wasn't going to leave without his brother's acquiescence.

Interesting.

Sherlock gave a curt nod that looked more like a grimace and she stood up. "I won't be long," she assured him, giving Mycroft a meaningful look as she walked passed.

"I don't think your pathologist likes me very much," Mycroft commented once they were alone.

"I told you she wasn't stupid," Sherlock muttered, sounding almost proud and maybe a little smug. "Molly found me," Sherlock continued, answering Mycroft's unspoken question, "she won't leave," he added.

Mycroft frowned a little as he tried to decipher his brother's tone, on the surface he sounded irritated but he thought he could detect something else – was he…_pleased_? Mycroft narrowed his eyes as he regarded his younger brother closely; he might be wrong about the tone but Sherlock wasn't as irritated by her presence as he wanted him to think.

"I wanted to believe you when you said you could control your addictions," he commented finally in a low tone, "you're slipping."

It was Sherlock's turn to narrow his eyes, "Addictions are for the weak," he said flatly, "I can quit whenever I want. This was a minor miscalculation," he added stiffly.

"Minor?"

"I never make the same mistake twice."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, "So you admit that you have made one."

"I had an overdose didn't I?" Sherlock hissed.

Mycroft pursed his lips, _Touché_ _brother_, he saluted Sherlock silently as the latter raised his eyebrows slightly in triumph.

Molly returned before either brother could say anything else, "Visiting hours are over," she said, looking at Mycroft expectantly.

Mycroft considered informing her that he had no desire – or reason – to obey something as trivial as hospital visiting hours, but thought the better of it. "Very well," he glanced at Sherlock, "I trust you will take more care in the future, brother," he said meaningfully.

He heard Molly's gasp at his seemingly callous tone, but – if his glare was anything to go by – Sherlock understood him perfectly.

Unable to resist provoking his brother further, he turned to Molly with a pleasant smile, "May I give you a lift, Dr. Hooper?" he asked, amused by the way she instinctively took a step closer to Sherlock's bed as she politely demurred.

Mycroft chose to ignore Sherlock's smirk at his pathologist's response, but he didn't miss the warning hidden deep in his brother's eyes. This time no words were spoken, but the message was still clear: _leave her alone._

Yes, he _definitely_ had to keep his eye on Molly Hooper.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Ok, I realise this one skips quite a bit but let's not forget that everyone underestimates our dear pathologist. Mycroft is no different. This one is set in ASiB.  
**

It would be at least two years before Mycroft saw Molly again, this time for purely professional reasons as he had had the body of The Woman sent to the morgue at St. Bart's for identification.

He cast an odd look at his brother as they walked down the empty corridors leading to the morgue and he explained about the body, noting that his brother barely even acknowledged his barb about the hospital being his 'home from home.'

Both men noticed the pathologist at the same time, Mycroft almost felt guilty as he noticed Sherlock's face pale slightly and Molly tense.

Almost.

Their odd reactions were too intriguing to make him regret the decision entirely.

"You didn't need to come in, Molly," Sherlock said in a low tone with something akin to gentleness in his expression.

Molly made a dismissive gesture, avoiding his gaze, "That's okay," she assured him, "everyone else was busy with...Christmas."

Something flashed across Sherlock's face and Molly looked decidedly awkward before slipping into a more professional manner. "The face is a bit, sort of…" she searched for an appropriate word, "bashed up, so it might be a bit difficult," she explained, compassion evident in her tone as pulled back the sheet revealing the victim's face.

Or, rather, what was left of it.

Mycroft suppressed a grimace and glanced at Sherlock, "That's her, isn't it?"

Sherlock looked up at Molly, "Show me the rest of her."

Molly's professional demeanour faltered slightly as she obediently pulled down the sheet, but Mycroft hardly noticed, his eyes were on his brother. Sherlock's eyes swept the woman's body from top to toe before glancing up at Molly, "That's her," he said flatly, spinning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

Mycroft nodded at Molly, "Thank you, Dr. Hooper."

Molly looked Mycroft square in the face, "Who is she?" she asked, her professional demeanour slipping away, "How did Sherlock recognise her from…not her face?"

Mycroft only smiled in return and followed his brother out, but he couldn't shake the image of her looking like a lost little girl. Not even when he caught sight of his brother staring out of a window and looking like a lost little boy.

"Just the one," he said, holding a cigarette out to him.

Sherlock regarded it suspiciously, "Why?"

"Merry Christmas," Mycroft said drily as Sherlock took the cigarette and Mycroft searched for a lighter.

"Smoking indoors – isn't there one of those...one of those law things?" Sherlock asked in a feeble attempt to bait him.

"We're in a morgue," Mycroft reminded him as he lit the cigarette, "There's only so much damage you can do," he added. The forlorn expression on Molly's face rose unbidden to his mind, but he brushed it aside.

Sherlock's thoughts seemed to have mirrored his own since he was almost certain he saw him glance at the morgue before he took a long drag on the cigarette, blowing the smoke out slowly.

"How did you know she was dead?" Mycroft asked conversationally.

Sherlock shrugged a shoulder, taking another drag on the cigarette, "She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on," he shrugged again, "she chose to give it up."

"Where is this item now?" Mycroft asked, more for formality's sake than anything else. He knew very well where it was.

They were distracted by the sound of a family weeping nearby and both men turned to watch them dispassionately.

"Look at them," Sherlock said after a moment, "They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there's something wrong with us?" he asked, his tone almost wistful.

"All lives end, all hearts are broken," Mycroft replied philosophically as he turned back to Sherlock just in time to see him glance at the morgue doors and grimace slightly. "Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock," he reminded him meaningfully.

Sherlock shot him a warning look, blowing out more smoke, "This is _low_ tar," he said finally.

"Well, you barely knew her," Mycroft replied easily, watching him closely for a reaction.

"Ha!" Sherlock scoffed, walking off.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes as he watched him go, his suspicions seemingly confirmed. This was about a woman all right, but he had his doubts that it was about The Woman. Something else had happened.

"Merry Christmas, Mycroft," Sherlock said without turning around.

"And a happy New Year," Mycroft replied ironically as Sherlock disappeared through the doors at the end of the corridor. Once he was out of sight, Mycroft pulled out his phone to call John.

"He's on his way," he said without preamble, "have you found anything?"

"_No,"_ came the reply, _"did he take the cigarette?"_

"Yes."

"_Shit,"_ John cursed as he hung up.

Mycroft glanced back into the morgue as he pocketed his phone. _Indeed_, he thought to himself as he caught sight of Molly.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Once again we've skipped forward a bit in time, this is set after/during TRF :)**

_You're wrong – caring is the only advantage._

The note was unsigned but Mycroft still knew who had left it; he had looked at it often in the past few days and he still couldn't quite make sense of it.

Sentiment was not an advantage and Mycroft was at a loss as to how his brother could think so considering his suicide.

Suicide.

Mycroft still shied away from the word; he'd never imagined that he would ever use it and Sherlock in the same sentence. He'd always believed that his brother cared too little about what people thought of him to ever become so disastrously affected by negative public opinion.

Mycroft unconsciously mirrored his brother's habitual pose as he steepled his fingers thoughtfully, considering the problem.

As far as he was aware there was only a handful of people whose opinions actually mattered to Sherlock and out of those handful there was only _one_ that he believed would have any demonstrable effect on his brother.

He glanced at the note again as a suspicion began to form in his mind: _caring is the only advantage._ His eyes narrowed slightly as the last piece of the puzzle slipped into place.

"Dr. Hooper," he greeted Molly politely as she opened the door to her flat, "I hope I'm not disturbing you."

If Molly was surprised to see him, she kept it to herself as she wordlessly motioned for him to enter. "Tea?" she asked, watching as he took a seat in what passed for the lounge room in her small flat.

"Not at the moment, thank you. Please," he continued, indicating the couch opposite with an expansive gesture, "sit."

Molly did as she was bid, watching him warily.

"Suicide is not something I ever expected to associate with my brother," he began, his pleasant tone belied by the hint of menace in his expression. "I'm curious as to why he chose to do so and at St. Bart's of all places," he cocked his head to the side with a small smile, watching her closely. "What is your part in this, Dr. Hooper?" he asked finally.

Molly blinked, looking a little bewildered, "_My_ part?"

"You can dissemble all you like," he told her dismissively, "but I know that you are privy to more than you let on," he added, leaning forward slightly.

He was bluffing, of course, he had only his suspicions and a handful of encounters with the pathologist to go on, but he knew his brother. Sherlock wouldn't have kept her in his life for so long if she wasn't important.

Molly recovered from her initial bewilderment quickly, "I'm as much in the dark as you are," she assured him gravely, holding his gaze steadily.

Mycroft sat back and narrowed his eyes slightly, his brother had chosen well – Molly Hooper was no fool.

"I never understood how my brother could inspire such loyalty in people like you and Dr. Watson," he said after a moment, regarding her thoughtfully. "Despite his protests, Sherlock would have repaid that loyalty in kind," he leaned forward once more, "I'm sure he told you something."

Molly shook her head and gave him a self-deprecating smile, "I don't count."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes again, "On the contrary, Dr. Hooper," he said in a low tone, "I'm quite convinced that you _do._"

Any response Molly would have given was cut off as his supposedly dead brother strode into the room. "How refreshing to see that your interrogation methods haven't changed," he said mockingly as he took a seat next to Molly on the couch.

"Old habits die hard," Mycroft replied sardonically, sitting back in his seat.

Sherlock shot him a dark look, but otherwise ignored his comment. "It took you longer than I expected for you to decipher my note," he said finally.

"I was merely amazed you made it so simple," Mycroft retorted, earning another glare from his brother. "Although I admit to being impressed that you turned your weakness into a strength," he added, casting another thoughtful look in Molly's direction as she discreetly left the room.

"Weakness is a matter of perception," Sherlock retorted.

"I'm inclined to agree," Mycroft replied, turning his attention back to Sherlock, "I take it you require my help?"

"I will stand a better chance of taking down Moriarty's web on my own," Sherlock hesitated and eyed his brother warily. "But I can't afford any distractions," he said meaningfully.

Mycroft regarded his brother in silence for a long moment, "Then I shall make sure that there are none," he said finally.

Sherlock gave a satisfied nod and changed the subject as Molly returned, tea tray in hand.

Mycroft watched the almost domestic scene unfold as his brother stood up to help Molly with the tea things. Sherlock had placed enormous trust in him by asking for this favour and it appeared that, for all his vigilance, he had severely underestimated the pathologist.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Firstly, thank you for all the support and encouragement to continue this and secondly, I apologise that this is a much shorter chapter than the others. It's based on something from _Bones_ S8E1: "The Future In The Past" that I've always wanted to do as a Sherlolly post-TRF story (and might still do in future). As you may have guessed, this is set post-TRF. Hope you like it :)**

At first, Mycroft had been highly suspicious of the flowers that would appear outside Molly Hooper's door. They appeared at various intervals but with enough frequency to arouse his suspicions.

Unfortunately his inquiries into their origin had proved unsuccessful and, when he'd had them searched, they'd proved to be completely harmless. A small comfort since he'd still been unable to just let the matter drop; his brother had left him in charge of her well-being and he was determined not to let him down.

Besides, why would someone be sending the apparently unattached pathologist flowers? And anonymously at that.

It was all highly suspicious.

But his fears were eventually laid to rest from a completely unexpected source.

"It's not a threat," Anthea commented without looking up from her phone as they sat in the car opposite Molly's flat.

"Perhaps not on the surface, but I need to be sure," he replied smoothly, keeping his eyes fixed on Molly's flat, watching for the mysterious flower deliverer.

"He's been sending her azaleas, white heather, irises and gardenias," she continued, apparently unconcerned by his skepticism. "Harming Dr. Hooper would appear to be the last thing on his mind," she added, still typing away furiously on her phone.

Mycroft raised his eyebrows as he turned to face her, "He?"

Anthea looked up from her phone. "It stands to reason," she said with a small shrug, "besides, I doubt very much that someone who wanted to harm her would be asking her to take care of herself for them, offering protection, thanking her for her friendship and telling her that she's lovely."

Mycroft regarded her closely, "You think that it's Sherlock," he said finally.

Anthea glanced out the window, "Who else would send Dr. Hooper narcissus?" she asked, indicating the nondescript delivery man carrying the flowers in question. Mycroft watched him for a brief moment before turning to her with a questioning look; she smirked, "Stay as sweet as you are."

Mycroft resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Hardly a threat," Anthea commented with an amused smile, turning back to her phone.

"Perhaps not," Mycroft agreed doubtfully.

"I think it's sweet," Anthea said, sounding slightly wistful. "You know she replies," Anthea added, glancing at him, "she takes flowers to his grave within a couple of days of receiving his," she explained at Mycroft's surprised expression. "Always pink carnations and daisies," she continued, turning back to her phone with a smile, "I'll never forget you and I'll never tell."

This time Mycroft did roll his eyes as he instructed the driver to move on.

Sentiment, _again_.

Molly Hooper seemed to have the alarming ability to bring that out in his brother; although, for once, he was inclined to think that it might be a good thing. She had long been a constant in his brother's life and she was a positive influence on him.

Perhaps, it was time for her to claim a more permanent role than simply 'friend.'


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I apologise for the delay in posting a new chapter but it is longer than the last one so I hope that makes up for it. This scenario was requested by beautywithin22 so I hope I do it justice and that y'all will enjoy it! Once again, thank you for the lovely reviews x  
**

**FYI: I see Aurelia as Felicity Kendal :)**

Aurelia Holmes adjusted the dial on the microscope, studying the plant sample underneath with an intensity only rivalled by that of man studying _her_ from the doorway.

"Mycroft, don't lurk in doorways, it's rude," she admonished him without turning around as she made a note in the book beside her.

"My apologies," he said, stepping further into the room, "but she will be here soon and…you're not ready."

Aurelia raised an eyebrow as she regarded him, "I have clothes on don't I?" she said with an amused smile. Mycroft looked a little taken aback and she snickered, "You worry too much," she said as she stood up, "you always have," she added, squeezing his arm affectionately.

"I have to keep you safe," he said shortly.

She cocked her head to the side with a sad smile and cupped his chin with her hand, forcing him to look her in the eye. "And you have never let me down," she told him seriously, "just try and relax," she continued, taking a step back, "for me?"

Mycroft sighed heavily, "He's not going to be pleased."

Aurelia smirked and gave a dismissive wave, "He'll just have to get over it," she said cheerfully, "I'll go and change, let me know when she arrives," she added, moving passed him.

When he next saw her, Mycroft was relieved to see that the overalls and gumboots had been replaced by a smart pantsuit and low heels.

"Better?" she teased, coming down the stairs.

He nodded, "Much better."

"Just promise me you're not going to scare the poor girl to death," she said as she came level with him, "then he really won't forgive us," she added, straightening his tie.

"He'd forgive _you_ anything," Mycroft grumbled as they heard a car pull up outside.

"Perhaps," Aurelia agreed with an enigmatic smile as she chucked him under the chin.

Mycroft ignored the odd warmth in his chest that the gesture always elicited as he watched her answer the door. He waited until the door to the living room closed behind the two women before taking a seat in the hallway and unfolding his newspaper.

Mycroft didn't have to wait long; five minutes after Molly arrived, Sherlock burst through the front door.

His eyes zeroed in on his brother and he stalked towards him, "I thought I told you to leave her alone," he said accusingly, towering over his brother.

Mycroft took his time re-folding his newspaper before he looked up at his brother, "I thought we had moved passed that," he said mildly.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "I recall making my position on that point _quite_ clear."

"You did," he agreed, "but you never gave such strict instructions to Mummy," he added calmly.

Sherlock's eyes narrowed until they were almost slits, "Mummy could only have found out about her from _one_ source," he hissed.

"Don't you think it's about time they met?" Mycroft asked, feigning innocence and ignoring Sherlock's thinly veiled accusation.

Sherlock huffed and took the seat on the opposite side of the hallway, glaring at his brother.

Mycroft watched Sherlock silently fume and wondered if Molly Hooper was aware of the extent of her influence over his brother. She certainly had never used it to her advantage, something he'd always grudgingly respected.

"Why wasn't _I_ informed?" Sherlock muttered after a moment, crossing his arms and breaking Mycroft from his musings.

"We thought you might make a scene," Mycroft explained calmly, he cocked his head to the side, "hardly a baseless concern considering your reaction."

"My _reaction_ was entirely in keeping with her disappearing and _you_ breaking your word," Sherlock replied icily.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes, this time a little offended by the slight against his honour. "Mummy was quite impressed by the flowers," he commented drily after moment, "she thought you'd deleted that information."

Sherlock gave him a withering look, "I don't delete anything about Mummy," he said stiffly.

"I'm glad to hear it, I trust that you will behave better towards her," Mycroft replied, a clear note of warning in his tone.

"Mummy doesn't always need you to fly to her defence," Sherlock sniffed.

"Dr. Hooper doesn't require you to always come to hers either," Mycroft retorted.

The two brothers glared at each other, annoyed to have had their weakness so easily exposed. The sound of their mother's laughter broke them from their silent battle of wills and both men stood up as the living room door opened.

"Sherlock," Aurelia greeted him warmly, "how lovely to see you," she said, coming over to kiss his cheek. "Your lovely Molly and I were just becoming better acquainted," she told him, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "or, rather, _becoming_ acquainted."

"I would have brought her to see you," Sherlock replied, sounding a little defensive as he took Molly's hand.

Aurelia smiled at the gesture and squeezed his shoulder lightly, "Of course," she replied easily, "I merely saved you the trouble." She turned her attention to Molly, "It was lovely to meet you, my dear," she told her, squeezing her hand lightly, "I hope we'll meet again soon," she glanced at Sherlock, "you will let me know if you get married won't you?" she teased.

Molly turned a deep scarlet and even Sherlock looked a little discomposed by her comment; behind them, Mycroft rolled his eyes. Aurelia merely laughed and bid them farewell; she took Mycroft's arm as they watched them walk down the driveway.

"She's good for him," Aurelia commented, "she makes him happy and he makes her more confident about herself."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow as he looked down at her, Aurelia met his gaze with a smile, "You two aren't the only ones in this family who can read people," she informed him. She rested her head on his shoulder, hugging his arm a little closer, "If only I could see you just as happy," she said wistfully.

Mycroft squeezed her hand, "I am happy."

Aurelia lifted her head and regarded him for a moment, "That Anthea's a nice girl."

Mycroft rolled his eyes as he disentangled himself from her hold, "Mother, don't start," he warned her, disappearing into the house.

"It's just a thought…" Aurelia replied innocently, following him inside.

Mycroft shook his head as he listened with half an ear to his mother's matchmaking, perhaps Sherlock had been right to keep their mother and Molly apart for so long.


	7. Epilogue

**A/N: I felt it needed just a little something extra to round it all off. Slight reference to the L&O: SVU episode 'Swing' and Jane Austen's _Pride & Prejudice. _****Thanks again for all your support for this and a HUGE thank you to beautywithin22 who read through the extra chapters for me. Hope you like! x**_  
_

_**Epilogue**_

Much later that evening and safely ensconced back at 221B, Sherlock sat in his chair with his knees tucked under his chin, moodily watching the light rain through the window. He looked up as Molly entered the room, carrying two cups of coffee.

"She's…different to what I was expecting," Molly commented, handing Sherlock his drink and perching on the edge of John's chair.

"Mummy always had a way of putting people at ease," Sherlock observed, taking a sip of his drink. His eyes darted in her direction over the rim of his cup, "She's a lot like you."

Molly blinked, "Me?"

Sherlock shrugged a shoulder as he turned his attention back to the window. "You're both very open and understanding," he explained, looking steadfastly out the window, "both of you accept people without any judgement." He took another sip of his drink, "And both of you love me," he added, feigning nonchalance but unable to resist a small smirk.

Molly blushed before she shook her head at his smug expression, "Well, it's hard to resist such a cute carrot," she said innocently, hiding her smile as she took a sip of her drink.

Sherlock's head snapped in her direction, "She didn't."

Molly's smile grew into a grin, "Oh, she most certainly did."

Sherlock pouted and turned away, grumbling about mothers and their predilection for taking embarrassing childhood photographs.

Molly giggled, "Don't be grumpy, I thought it was sweet."

Sherlock's only response was a huff as he took another sip of his drink. Molly sobered and looked down, absently tracing the rim of her cup with her thumb.

"Why did she want to see me, Sherlock?" she asked finally, keeping her eyes trained on the cup in her hands.

"Because Mycroft likes to gossip," Sherlock grumbled, sinking a little lower in his seat.

"What could he possibly have to say that would make your mother want to meet _me_?" Molly asked, looking up at him.

Sherlock shifted in his seat so that he could give her a meaningful look over his shoulder.

Molly took a sip of her drink, "Oh."

Sherlock shifted so that he was once again facing the window and Molly regarded him thoughtfully, "So, why was Mycroft the one to tell her about me?" she asked quietly.

The silence that greeted her question lasted so long that Molly wondered if she should bother repeating it or just let the matter drop. She suppressed a start as Sherlock finally broke the silence, "Because at first you hardly mattered and then you mattered too much," he said in a low tone.

Molly frowned in confusion, unsure how to take his comment. She wisely remained silent as he sat up properly in his seat and turned so that he was facing her.

"When you first entered my life I did not expect it to be anything but a transient experience," he explained, not quite meeting her eye. "I was not in the habit of making friends, much less bringing people home to meet my mother," he met her eyes briefly, "your continued presence in my life exceeded my expectations, but it wasn't until Mycroft accosted you that I realised you had outstayed most people." He stopped and fiddled with the mug in his hands for a few moments, "It took longer than it should have for me to realise that I wanted that stay to be permanent," he continued, meeting her gaze properly. "Our relationship started to change accordingly and I wanted to explore that without any outside interference, especially after I returned." He paused, "I wanted to have you to myself for a while," he confessed, dropping her gaze once more.

Molly took a moment to process what he had said; it was probably the longest she had ever heard him talk about sentiment and she wanted to make sure she understood.

"I think I understand," she said finally, "I just hope you don't feel pressured or that Mycroft forced your hand."

Sherlock scoffed, "If I hesitated to introduce you it was merely to prevent my mother from overwhelming _you_. It never takes long for a woman's brain to leap from love to matrimony and my mother's brain leaps faster than most."

Molly bit her lip to hide a smile, "Love? Is that what this is?" she teased.

She instantly regretted it when she saw him tense and was about to apologise when his face cleared, "I was under the impression that was the case, Dr. Hooper," he responded in an equally teasing tone and she relaxed. "Was I mistaken?" he added with a smirk as he set his mug aside and came to loom over her.

She bit back a giggle, "It's always a possibility."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he leaned in a little closer, "I don't make mistakes," he murmured.

Molly smiled, "Then it must be true."

All further conversation was put to an end as Sherlock closed the distance between them and kissed her.


End file.
